


Traiteur

by Servena



Series: How to Save a Life [10]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Gen, Healers, Healing, Herbalism, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Old Age, Old Woman - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Traiteur, rudeness, test
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-12-01 19:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: “You’re ‘er boy, aren’t you?”





	Traiteur

Business doesn’t pick up soon, but that is just as well. After all, they did move out here to get some peace and quiet. So far Babe enjoys it quite a bit. He still thinks about the war a lot, especially during the calm mornings when they brew their coffee and neither of them talks. Maybe he’ll always think of it, hear a bang and think of guns, see snow and think of blood, hear a shout and think of death, ‘til the day he dies, but it’s like the weight is not quite as heavy on his chest anymore. If it stays like this, he figures he can live with it.

But he knows that Gene is still restless, can tell by the way he can’t seem to sit still unless Babe makes him, the way he does too much and talks too little. He knows that this is his way of coping and he’s not complaining about all the fixed drawers and doors and window frames, but it’s still nagging at him, because seeing someone you love hurt is somehow so much worse than being hurt yourself. (Babe figures that that’s true for Gene, too, maybe even more so. It’s what made him such a good medic.)

And, to be honest, they could use the money because while they live frugal and the first vegetables turn out to actually be edible, all these materials for renovation aren’t exactly cheap and what Babe earns out of the house doing all kinds of works can only get them so far.

So when there is a knock on the door one day and there’s an old woman standing in their front garden, he’s both excited and apprehensive. “Gene! I think you got a customer.” Gene cleans off his hands and goes to open, his tense shoulders telling Babe that his feelings are shared.

There is no introduction, instead the woman looks Gene up and down for a long moment of silence and then says: “You’re ‘er boy, aren’t you?” in a Cajun accent so heavy it might as well be French to Babe.

Gene catches up faster than him, because he nods. “That’s me.”

She nods slowly. “Heard you picked up the trade. Figured I might check if you’re worth somethin’.”

Babe finds her exceptionally rude, in that way only old people can be rude, like they haven’t got a care in the word because they’ll die soon anyway, and if he could think of something to say, he would, but Gene just gives him a look and he keeps his mouth shut.

Gene shrugs of the comment like he didn’t hear it at all, instead opening the door wider and stepping aside to let her in. The woman looks around and Babe is utterly aware that she is noticing every speck of dirt and every cobweb. But she seems to like what she sees, nodding and mumbling to herself before saying: “This was a piece o’ work. In bad shape, was it.”

“It took a while”, Gene says. He helps her settle into the only comfortable chair they’ve got. Babe considers that maybe he should leave, but Gene hasn’t asked him to and somehow this would feel like abandoning him, so instead he leans back against the pantry to keep a safe distance.

“So, where does it hurt?” Gene asks after sitting down on the other chair.

She gives a sharp laugh. “Oh, everywhere! I’m an old woman after all, wouldn’t be right if I wasn’t hurting everywhere.” She leans in closer and Babe silently commends Gene for not leaning back. “And it wouldn’t be right to give you a hint, non?”

He nods like that makes complete sense to him. Then he takes her skinny, wrinkly hand into his, carefully running his fingers over the joint of her wrist. He then repeats the same examination on the other hand. Babe barely dares to breathe, afraid to break his concentration if he does.

“How long has this been bothering you?” Gene asks.

She shrugs. “About a year. I can’t quite remember.”

“I assume this gets worse after resting?” At her confirmation, he nods to himself. “It’s called Rheumatoid Arthritis. This can’t be healed, but the pain can be lessened. I’ll give you some herbs that you can use in hot poultice against the inflammation. A hot bath might also help. But if this gets worse, you might need to see a doctor in the city.”

“Nonsense”, she says sharply. “I’m not going to the city to give these charlatans my hard-earned money. Your herbs will do.”

She watches as he goes through his collection of dried herbs in the drawers of the old chest in the corner, filling some of them into a linen bag before handing it to her. “Once every day of a week should bring significant relief. If it doesn’t, you should come back. You should also try to gently move your hands each morning after getting up. And you should stop smoking.”

She stuffs the bag into her pocket before she gets up. “Not in this life, boy. You can take my pipe out of my cold dead hands.”

She doesn’t ask how much it is and he doesn’t ask her for money. Instead he just walks her back to the door, where she stops to say: “You’re nothing like you’re grandmother. There would have been more praying and much less of this medicine they teach in the city.”

“No”, Gene says calmly. “I figure I’m not.”

She nods to herself. Then she gives Babe a sharp look which makes him almost stumble backwards from the force of it, especially considering he had thought she had forgotten all about him. “And I suppose _he_ is the reason you’re out here.”

“One of ‘em.”

“Well, times are changing”, she says with a face like she’s just bitten into a lemon. Then she gives Gene another considering look. For a moment, it feels like the whole room holds its breath. “Well, I guess you’ll do.”

Babe exhales.

As soon as they have closed the door behind her, he can no longer hold back his words. “Such a rude, stuck-up –“

But to his surprise, Gene just laughs. “We better clean up the kitchen. It’s gonna get a lot busier here now.”

Babe raises an eyebrow. “You sure about this?”

Gene nods. “This was basically a raving review.”

“If _that_ was a raving review, I’d hate to hear a scorching one.”

“Oh, me, too, trust me.”

Babe sighs deeply. “So much for peace and quiet.” But before Gene can say something, he hurriedly adds: “But I’m happy for you. I really am.”

And then he gives him a hug, just because he can.


End file.
